18 YEARS LATER:

Daryl is working at a local auto body shop and one day as he's riding his bike home after work he passes the old Taylor place and sees a truck parked in the drive and somebody walking around the yard. Maybe they were selling the property after all this time. Libby's grandparents had moved to Alabama a few years after her family had moved to Atlanta. He hadn't seen her again after that summer –her family hadn't come back to the farm to visit before her grandparents had moved. In the intervening time the farm had been rented out to other family members for upkeep. It had been empty now for about a year or so. He'd heard old Mr. Taylor had passed away a few years back and two years ago Mrs. Taylor had passed away. He hadn't seen any of the family the week of the funeral, and assumed the place would finally be put up for sale. He hadn't ever seen a sign in the yard though, or heard any rumors about it being for sale. Probably private sale to another family member. If he'd had any money he would've checked into buying it or renting it. That farm held the only happy memories he'd ever had of this entire place.

His own father had died eight years ago in a nursing home from the years of drinking and neglect. He'd moved into the old ramshackle shack when his father went into the nursing home. It wasn't much, but it was their family's free and clear. He'd set to work gutting it and rebuilding it room by room in his off hours-he had found work through Merle on one of his rare home visits between stretches in jail. A friend of Merle's owned an auto and bike repair shop. Daryl had always been good with his hands, and had quickly caught on to the work. He was paid in cash weekly, and had used the money to fix the shack up slowly. It still wasn't much to look at it, but it was solidly built now, respectable looking instead of looking like the shack it had been. It was a small shotgun style house, living area, kitchen, two bedrooms and bath. He had scavenged parts from abandoned houses in the area, and studied books to learn wiring and plumbing and carpentry as well as seeking advise from his boss's friends who worked in building and construction. It had taken a long time and a lot of hard work –mistakes and start overs, but now it was a decent little house that he was no longer ashamed to call his home. He kept the yard cut and although it didn't have flowers or any fancy shrubbery, it had lots of old shade trees and a small, deep porch he could sit on in the evenings and enjoy the rare breeze. His furniture was mostly cast offs from customers or flea market finds. Again, nothing fancy but clean and well built and serviceable. He had even taken up building furniture-basics like tables and chairs, and had made a little money from this. He had built himself a sturdy rocker he liked to sit in out on the porch in the evenings.

His was a lonely existence, he had no real friends but he liked the solitude and knowing there would be no drunken violent scenes at night was a relief and a balm to his soul. His boss and coworkers teased him occasionally about various female customers of theirs that seemed to be sweet on him, according to them, but he had no interest in dating anyone. He had occasionally had one night stands when he'd been out carousing with his brother on his rare visits home, but these left him ashamed and embarrassed –the women were drunk or high and would've gone with anyone, they weren't necessarily attracted to him. And every time he'd been with anyone, all he could really see was Amy's face and hear Amy's voice from that summer they'd had together. He knew he'd never see her again, but far better to be alone and lonely than to settle for someone he would never really care about and be unhappy like his parents had been.

The next morning as he rode his bike to work, as he passed the old Taylor place he remembered seeing a truck in the driveway the night before. He saw it now as he passed by-an antique actually. It looked to be an old Chevy longbed from the late '70s, early 80's. Those things were tanks, and if a person could keep them running they'd last forever. He saw a lot of trucks like these in farming communities, they were great trucks for hauling hay and feed to the pastures and for knocking around the gravel roads without worrying about potholes or gravel scratching up the paint. It looked to be black or very dark blue. He frowned, wondering who it was that was at the house.

Mid morning he looked up to see that old truck pulling into the shop parking lot. He stopped what he was doing and watched to see who got out. His mouth fell open as a tiny auburn haired woman hopped out of the truck and shut the door. She was short but very curvy, her hair hung down her back in long auburn curls. His throat went dry. There were lots of women with red curly hair, but damn if she didn't look like Amy had. Of course, Amy had been a girl of fifteen last he saw her and this was a full grown very curvy woman. Almost on the plump side, but plump in all the right places. The guy working next to him looked over to where Daryl was staring and let out a low whistle as Amy leaned over looking at the tire, her back to them.

"Damn if her ass ain't just like a Christmas ham," George murmured appreciatively. "Now that's a woman, I like a woman with some meat on her." He whistled softly again. Daryl shot him a sharp look and turned back to watch as she straightened and headed toward the bay they were working in. She had big sunglasses on and he elbowed George before he could make a rude comment about her generous breasts straining against her plain tshirt. He tried to swallow, his throat even more dry. If this was indeed Amy, she had definitely grown up.

She stepped into the shade of the bay and looked around questioningly. As her gaze fell on Daryl, her mouth fell open and he heard her soft gasp of "oh". He started, then walked quickly toward her, twisting the shop rag around in his hands. She looked up at him and he noticed her mouth was still the same even if everything else had changed-plump, moist, pink. He remembered kissing that mouth all that summer, the memory had gotten him through many a bad night since then.

He nodded to her and cleared his throat. "Amy?" he mumbled. She nodded and looked around shyly.

"Hi Daryl. Didn't know you worked here. This your place?" she whispered softly. He had to strain to hear her. Looking at her, he couldn't put his finger on it but he saw immediately something was off about her. She had never been a shy girl, had always been confident in how she moved and spoke. This Amy seemed very uncertain of herself, timid almost.

"Um, no. But I work here. Do ya need to see the owner?" he asked, still studying her closely. She hadn't taken her sunglasses off, and as she turned her head to glance around the shop, he saw what looked to be faint bruising on her cheek. His jaw tightened and his hands clenched. What had happened to her? Who had hurt her?

She turned back to him. "Um, well I just need somebody to take a look at granddaddy's, I mean my truck." He nodded.

"What do you need looked at?" he asked, walking toward the truck as she followed slowly behind.

"Well, no one's driven it in a while and I just needed someone to check it out. Ya know, make sure it's not going to blow up on me or anything," she finished softly, with a sad smile on her face.

"Blow up on ya?" he asked her as he reached in the cab to pop the hood.

"Yeah, well all my cars seem to do that. No matter how often I get the oil changed or whatever else that needs done, they all seem to blow up. Or get wrecked," she trailed off as he leaned over into the engine and started looking at the oil and other fluids. He looked over at her, eyebrow raised.

"mmmmm, well let's check all the fluids, the air filter, gas filter, tires, see if anything needs changing," he muttered as he looked over all the wires and belts. She nodded silently. "It might take a while, do you have anywhere ya need to be? I can give ya a ride or ya can wait in the office there with my boss's wife, Mary." He continued. She folded her arms over her chest protectively and shook her head.

"No, I have nowhere I have to be at. I can wait," and she started off toward the office. He shut the hood and hopped in the cab to start the truck up and pull it into the empty third bay. He wondered how she was able to see over the steering wheel, much less reach the pedals. And it sat up high enough he imagined she'd had to hop up somehow to even get into the truck. He shook his head and set about checking the truck out.

Two hours later he stepped into the small office. Mary raised her eyebrows at him questioningly and glanced back at Amy. She was sitting quietly in a chair, staring down at her hands. He remembered Amy as something of a chatterbox, but people changed. She seemed to have changed a lot though.

He cleared his throat and walked over to her. She glanced up and grimaced. "How bad was it?" her voice barely above a whisper. He sat down in the chair beside her, twisting the shop rag again.

"Not bad at all, just needed new oil, new filters, tires are still good, everything else seems to be good. Those old trucks last forever, hard to put them outta commission unless you total 'em in a wreck," he answered her, watching her closely. She nodded and sighed in relief.

"Well, that'll probly be what'll happen next," she murmured. She stood up and approached the desk where Mary sat. "What do I owe you?" Mary looked over at Daryl and he shook his head, motioning that he'd take care of it. He had the feeling Amy was worried about money, and he could at least help her out this way. Mary smiled.

"Aw, hon, this is a free service for all new customers. Don't worry about it, but if you have any problems bring it back by here and we'll work on it," she finished and waved Amy off. Amy nodded numbly, and turned back to Daryl.

"Thanks again, Daryl. See ya around," and she walked out toward the truck where he'd pulled it out into the parking lot. Daryl followed her out and when he saw her hesitate after she opened the cab door, he quickly stepped up to her and touched her shoulder. She flinched and turned quickly toward him. His heart broke. He knew what that flinching meant. He'd done it himself, even now if someone touched him unexpectedly or came up to him too quickly he had his guard up. It came from being beaten. He recognized now her caution in her movements, her silence as a way of making herself unseen and unheard. His jaw clenched. His beautiful Amy. He had always dreamt of her happy, with a nice husband and cute kids in a beautiful house. Never this.

He put his hands up to show no harm meant and her face flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, I don't like folks sneaking up on me either," he said softly, trying to lessen her embarrassment. She nodded slightly and gave a small shrug. "Are ya staying at your grandparents?" he asked. She nodded again, not volunteering any other information. "Would it be okay if I stopped by on my way home tonight after work?" She looked up at him, frowning.

"You live down the road from the farm?" she asked softly. He nodded.

"Yeah, dad passed bout eight years back and I moved in and worked on it. It's nothing fancy, but it's a lot better than it was. All mine, clear and free." He smiled a bit proudly at that. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively again.

"You and your wife must be happy out there, it was always a place with a lot of potential," she murmured.

"Ain't married," he mumbled, "no girlfriend either, just me and a couple of beagles I hunt with." He watched her closely and saw some of the tension go out of her. She seemed to relax a little and smiled a genuine smile this time.

"Well, sure. Stop by if ya want. I was gonna grill some burgers or something later, want me to put some on for ya?" She had uncrossed her arms but was now twisting her hands nervously. He had the urge to lay his hand on hers but resisted it.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Want me to bring something?" he asked her. She shook her head.

"You'll have to bring beer if ya want it, I don't keep any around," she mumbled, flushing red again.

His mouth tightened at this. "Naw, I don't drink any more. Haven't in a long time. Seems it just gets me in trouble and I don't need any trouble like that," he said tersely. She nodded and turned to the cab. "Ya need a boost up?" he offered. She laughed a small laugh and nodded. He placed his hand out and she stepped into it and he boosted her up and into the cab. "Need ta get ya a stepstool if you're gonna insist on driving that around," he said laughing softly. She grinned back at him and started the engine up. It roared to life and she gave him a little wave and headed off back out to the farm. He watched her silently for a minute then headed back into the office.

Mary looked up and smiled at him. "Ain't that the little Taylor girl? I heard she's staying at the old farm out on the gravels." Daryl smirked, nothing went unnoticed in this small town-a fact he both loved and hated.

"Yeah, that's Amy. We used to hang out together when she'd spend the summers at the farm. Haven't seen her in bout twenty years give or take," he mumbled. Mary looked at him closely. His face was slightly pink, and he had a faraway look on his face that she'd never seen. Seems this might be one girl Daryl would think about dating.

"I heard she's had a rough time of it. Divorced, lost a baby, been involved with some rough guys. Heard her family is letting her stay at the farm so she can get herself back on her feet," she continued. Best he heard what was going on before he got involved at all. Daryl shot her a sharp look and grunted and walked back toward the bays. He realized Mary was trying to give him a heads up, but he didn't like the idea of anyone talking about Amy's misfortunes.